A/N: So, I've been sick. I still wanted to get you guys this chapter, though, so I pushed through. It's not as long as I wanted, and I didn't want to leave it where it is, but what's done is done. Once my head clears up, I'll be good to go. I hope you enjoy, and thank you to all who favorite, follow, and review. You're cooler than a storm in Briggs.

Chapter Twelve: One Week

Spring brought with it a thin, dry heat, breathing life back into the town. The trees began to regain their leaves, and the grass poked its head from underneath the thick layer of winter mud. Water left over from snow and ice was quickly sucked into the desert air, over-saturating its thirst, and poured back down to the earth as drops of rain. Sunny days became a relief. Even though the rains would last only as long as it took to balance the climate, they were plentiful.

Roy was sequestered to the porch while practicing his alchemy, a caution advised by his aunt in a postscript to a letter addressed to him and Riza. Berthold had given him a few more liberties in his studies. He was allowed to work with a chosen material for a set amount of time with the expectation that he master it before his time was up. At dawn on the first day of the week, his master had dropped a box noisily on Roy's bedroom floor. "One week." Those were the only words spoken to him.

The box, which contained a small book and several pounds worth of iron, sat to his left side. Roy had worked with iron before, but only on rare occasions. It was difficult to work with, and it was made worse when he realized he had no idea what Berthold wanted him to do with it. Even Riza was of no help in solving the puzzle.

"I don't have a clue," she admitted after being asked. "I've never seen him do this to a student before."

Roy turned a large chunk of iron over in his hand, with half a mind to throw it through the glass of the study window. He let out a sound somewhat like a growl before exchanging the metal for the book. He had read it, cover to cover, twice already. It broke the metal down into its most basic components, talked about which elements it could and could not combine with, and gave a brief history of its alchemical discovery. That is to say, he found it absolutely useless. Roy threw the book back into the box before leaning back against the wall of the house. He had wasted two days like this, and he couldn't afford to lose any more.

When he sat back up, he pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket. He deftly sketched out a transmutation circle on the wood before him. After he paused to examine his work, he reached into the box and pulled out the smallest piece of iron he could find. The metal joined the circle, and Roy took a few moments, staring at them both. He reached out and touched the circle.

Blue light emanated around the iron, and it changed shape far more quickly than Roy had anticipated. He shifted it into a sphere and removed his hands. Maybe the endless tasks his master had for him were working. Iron was a stubborn substance, and he was a stubborn kid. For the first time, it bent easily to his will. He couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. He held up the ball and examined it, noticing how much it looked like...

Roy launched himself to his feet and ran inside the house, startling a preoccupied Riza. Her cup of tea nearly fell from her hand and, despite saving the cup, she spilled some on the floor. "What did you come barging in here like that for?" she demanded as she bent to dry the floor with a rag.

"Coal!" Roy exclaimed, searching the sitting room frantically. He raced into the kitchen, opening every cabinet without bothering to close them. In the cupboard closest to the front door, he found a small box of it, which he scooped up. Just as quickly as he arrived, he was gone. Puzzled, Riza followed him out onto the porch.

Roy scrubbed away the previous circle with his forearm. He took no time to think as he began drawing its replacement: a far more detailed rendition. Riza watched him work as he added pieces of coal and iron to the middle of the circle, and she wondered if his confidence was a sign of genius or mania. With his special brand of cocksure impulsiveness, Roy brought his hands to the circle. A flash of blue light blinded them both for a moment. When their sight came back, both children realized that the metal in the circle was clearly different than before. Riza smiled and clapped her hands together, but her congratulations were cut short when Roy hung his head.

"What's wrong? You fused them, right?" Riza sat down on the wood beside Roy.

"Yeah, but I wanted steel. This is cast iron. They're made with the same metals, but I got the proportions wrong." Roy examined the new metal, frowning in frustration and disappointment. "I thought that maybe, if I could refine the iron, your dad would take that as progress."

Riza pulled the box of iron over to her so that she could look inside. "There's still a handful of pieces in here. That's plenty to work with."

"We don't have enough coal," he pointed out dejectedly, waving his hand at the other box.

"We'll get more." Riza nudged him with her shoulder, trying to cheer him up. "Isn't fusing them both an accomplishment on its own? I've never seen you do something like that before."

"I guess." Roy frowned. "But I still don't have a damned clue what he wants! Is making steel even close?" He feigned tearing at his hair in frustration.

"What have you been reading about recently? Maybe there's a clue there."

"The elements. Water, fire, earth, and whatnot. It's all been broad-concept." Roy closed his eyes as he tried to recall. "I can't see how any of that would work here. Iron isn't going to suddenly change categories."

Riza huffed, clueless herself. "Sorry I can't help more. Would a tea make it easier?"

Roy shook his head. "I'm fine. You go back inside - it's too wet out here. You'll catch a cold."

"I could say the same for you," Riza retorted as she opened the door. Roy remained on the porch, staring at his circle and wondering what he did wrong.

The next three days passed in monotony. Roy remained on the porch, transcribing theories and ideas in a notebook before attempting a transmutation. The rain continued to fall, and the porch was a minefield of pooled water. Careful not to sit in any of them, Roy took his precautions. An ottoman became a semi-permanent fixture, and Roy was almost fixed on top of it. Each day, Riza would bring him his lunch and usher him inside for dinner, aware that he would stay outside all night if he could.

After the sun had risen enough to provide light, Roy sat down for his fifth day of torment. He had resigned himself to failure. He would pack his bags and get on the next train to Central in two days, when Berthold deemed him an unfit pupil. He would try to become someone's apprentice, perhaps study under one of the tradesmen in the city. If, by the time he was eighteen, he still found himself completely useless, there was always the military. He could pass the physical test, he was sure. They would teach him what he would need to know in the academy. If he wasn't of any use there, he supposed he could become a vagrant.

Trapped in these negative thoughts, Roy reached out for the box of iron he had accidentally left on the porch overnight. He fell headlong into his despair when he saw that, due to his negligence, water had made its way among the metal. Rust coated every piece he had left. No, he pleaded to anyone who might listen. He examined each piece individually, his hands stained as he clutched the rust-coated iron. With a yell of frustration, he threw the pieces in his hands back into the bucket.

Riza stood in the doorway, stopped in her tracks when Roy turned to look at her. "Rust," he lamented, completely hopeless. "Every single piece. It's all rust." He had failed. Master Hawkeye might kick him out that very day for all he knew. His fourteen-year-old concept of machismo kept him from tears, swallowing them down as he hung his head.

Riza stiffened as she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. She moved from the doorway and shrunk back against the wall as her father passed her by. Roy looked at his feet as his master approached, knowing what was going to happen next.

Berthold looked down into the box. His eyes were expressionless, as usual, and his lips were drawn into a thin line. Slowly, he bent down and took a piece in his hand, bringing it to his face for examination. Carelessly, he loosened his fingers and let the iron fall back into the box. When he looked at Roy, the boy wouldn't meet his gaze or look in his direction. One gaunt arm reached out toward Roy, who braced himself for a slap. To his surprise, the hand landed on his shoulder in a single clap. Mistrustful, Roy remained braced until he heard his master's footsteps receeding. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to find Riza looking at him in wary confusion.

Roy walked to her side, closing the door to the porch behind him. Both children watched Berthold as he skimmed the books on the shelf, pulling one he deemed worthy. He tossed it onto the coffee table before pinning Roy with his gaze. "Four days," he declared before turning and heading back to his study. It wasn't until the door clicked that the children relaxed.

"What the hell was that?" Roy flopped down onto the couch, resting his head in his hands. "I thought he was going to kill me. Kick me out. Hell, he still might. Oh, God." I screwed up so bad that Master Hawkeye didn't know what to do with me.

Riza sat by his side and placed a reassuring hand on his upper back. With her other hand, she reached for the book her father had chosen. "On Combustion: A Treatise," she read aloud, turning the book in her hand so she could look at the back.

Roy lifted his head and stared off at nothing. He remained like this for several moments, and Riza started to become worried. "That's it," he whispered. He threw his head back and began to laugh uproariously. "I don't know how the hell I was supposed to know it, but luck helped me out on this one!"

Riza began to doubt his sanity. Trying to figure out what he was talking about, she opened the book to the table of contents. She scanned the sections for a clue. When Roy stopped laughing, she asked, "So rust is a type of slow-combustion reaction?"

"I let the iron get wet, exposing it to the oxygen in the water. The iron oxide it made produces heat. It's a lot slower than fire, for example, but it's just as hot over the longer period of time."

Riza nodded. "And so it ties back to your elemental reading."

"Yep. Earth is iron, water is, well, water, and the result was a sort of fire."

"I kind of feel like we should have been able to figure that out..."

"Eh," Roy shrugged. "I should have split the water and oxidized the iron faster, but what's done is done. I'm just lucky it wasn't my ass this time."

"I'm not so sure that would have been the way to go. Pulling hydrogen from oxygen could mess with the air as well as the water."

Roy pondered this for a moment. "Yeah, you're probably right." He looked at the large clock beside the fireplace. "It's still morning. I planned on despairing over a transmutation circle for two more days. What should we do?"

"You should probably start reading this," Riza placed the book in his hands. "The four days Father gave you start now, not in two days." She expected him to argue against her, and she was surprised when he didn't.

Roy obediently took the text and opened it, reading it with an intensity that Riza hadn't seen before. From the first few lines, he was completely engrossed. He showed no notice when Riza left the couch, and the only time he moved was when she alerted him to dinner.

"Master Hawkeye?" Roy inquired as he knocked on the study door. He dared to crack it open, at which point his master turned to look at him with tired eyes. Roy wondered how long it had been since he last slept. "I finished the text you gave me," he piped up, suddenly feeling the need to explain his presence.

Berthold made a noise of acknowledgement. The chair scraped across the wooden floor as he stood, and he walked on unsteady legs to one of his many bookcases. He pulled from the shelf a thick tome, three times the size of the book Roy held. When the text was extended to him, Roy took it without hesitation.

"Master Hawkeye?" Berthold turned to look at Roy, already having forgotten that he was here. "I thought I was going to get another experiment like the rust one; something to do with combustion."

Berthold barked a laugh that could have been a cough. "Foolish boy," he hissed as he lowered himself back into his seat. "You don't really think I would let you play with fire, do you? Oxygen, maybe? Ha. This arrogance is what kills alchemists. You'll do as I say or leave my tutelage."

"Yes, Master Hawkeye." Roy inclined his head to Berthold before backing out of the study. After the door closed behind him, he let his disappointment show. He thought that he was finally progressing in his studies, that he could experiment more. Yet here he was, stuck with another book to read. At least, this time, he hadn't been given a deadline.

He tossed the book carelessly onto the kitchen table, causing Riza to look up from her own. When he turned to face her, he declared, "I'm done with studying for today. Let's go do something."

"What did you have in mind?" Riza asked as she marked her page.

Roy shrugged. "Something fun. I was going to suggest hitchhiking to Irsukya, but-"

"There isn't a single soul heading toward Irsukya." Riza finished for him. Any contact with the neighboring towns was rare. "And that's aside from the chance of being kidnapped."

"Who would kidnap us?"

"Drachmen, according to your sister."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Jessica wrote it all out for me in her letter. She says that you're built to do heavy labor, and that I'm, and I quote 'too pretty to not be careful'. I'll take the compliment, but..."

"Riza!" Berthold's voice thundered down the hallway. Riza tensed, curling her hands into fists by her sides. Her heart rate continued to speed up, and she make a physical effort to swallow her nervousness. Roy would have gone so far as to call it terror. Unwilling to face the repercussions of being called a second time, she slipped past Roy and down the hall to her father's study.

Roy watched as she stood in the doorway. She nodded, spoke, and shifted in place. It seemed like ages before she made any sort of substantial movement. When she stepped inside the study, Roy took an unconscious step forward. Before he could advance further, she had reappeared. She remained in the hallway, facing the open door for several moments before she reached out to close it. She walked back toward Roy, utter confusion showing on her face. Before he could ask, she began her explanation.

"Father says he needs some... expletive... peace and quiet. He told me that we need to get out of his hair for a few days and gave me this envelope." Riza handed it over to Roy, unsure of what it was or what to do with it. "I know he must be on the verge of a breakthrough, but he's never done something like this before." She had to admit that she was a little worried.

Roy slipped a finger underneath the seam and tore the paper open, gawking at what he saw inside. "I'm pretty sure he just gave you my tuition for the month." He doubted that this was intentional. How could Master Hawkeye be so mentally absent as to make such a mistake?

"No, that can't be right," Riza protested, peering inside the envelope.

"I'm going to give this back to him," Roy decided. "Better get yelled at for disturbing him than for keeping this."

It was Riza's turn to look on as Roy approached her father's study. She admired how he wasn't afraid to approach his master. She knew that he was just as afraid of her father as she was, but he did a good job of not letting it show. The exchange was brief. Roy opened the door and said something, her father growled a response, and Roy quickly shut the door. As he approached Riza, he shrugged.

"What did he say?"

"To make it short, he said to just take it and stop bothering him."

"... That's a paraphrase, isn't it?"

"Yep," Roy nodded as he pulled the money from the envelope and began counting it. He knew his aunt's bar was lucrative, but he had no idea she could afford such an expense without, at least apparently, much effort. "Damn. Won't have to hitchhike anywhere with this."

"We're not going to be frivolous with it, either." Riza took the envelope from him. "Even if he fully expects us to spend it, some of it needs to be tucked away for when we come up short on what we need later."

"Okay. Frugal. We can work with that."

"Grandfather was transferred to East City, according to Aunt Chris. We could pay him a visit."

Roy was impressed that she was more open to Grumman, to the point that she was the one to suggest the visit. "That works for me. I've never been to East City before. Well, more than the train station, anyway."

"I'll give him a call if the phone will work. But I need you to pretend like you're talking to me. I only have his military line, and if Father finds out our plan, he'll be furious. We're going to need a good cover story, too."

"I've got your back."